


The Heart of a Warrior

by Palatinedreams



Series: The Long Way Home [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Biology, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Enemies, Escape, Fights, Genetic Engineering, Hybrids, Imprisonment, M/M, Mind Control, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Telepathy, Torture, Violence, Wraith Feeding, altered physiology, some kind of vampirism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palatinedreams/pseuds/Palatinedreams
Summary: In the process of John Sheppard and Todd forming an alliance and becoming mates, Ronon feels like the City of the Ancients isn't is home any longer. When he's told a story about a couple of survivors from his destroyed homeworld Sateda, he decides to leave Atlantis and search for them.The next thing he knows is that he's waking up in a lab strapped to an examination table. His captor and tormentor is someone they all believed to be dead after his downfall from one of Atlantis' towers: Michael Kenmore.Ronon soon realizes that Michael did not only clone Carson Beckett, but also himself, and his clone woke up when he died and is thirsting for revenge. He's been altering Ronon's DNA to turn him into a creature like he himself is and use him as his tool for revenge.Ronon is forced to fight against another Wraith who's Michael's prisoner and has been turned into a hybrid as well, and only if he learns to trust a Wraith and work together with him they'll both be able to survive and escape...
Relationships: Clone Michael Kenmore/Ronon Dex, Clone Michael Kenmore/Wraith, Ronon Dex/Wraith
Series: The Long Way Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872316
Comments: 16
Kudos: 12





	1. Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eos_x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eos_x/gifts).



> My dearest Eos1969,
> 
> I shouldn't post another work, but this idea of an alternate version of the story _**'Way of Life**_ I've taken down didn't leave me alone any longer, and the first chapter almost wrote itself. It's an usual thing to use Ronon for this topic, but it didn't work with any other character in my head, and I hope that you'll enjoy this story, even though it's not about our beloved John and Todd, but about Ronon and an original Wraith character.  
> This is a small thank you for you being such an awesome and amazing friend. <33
> 
> Note:
> 
> This story is an alternate version of **_Way of Life_** I wrote under my old account **Blue_Night** , but which I took down together with my other works when I deleted that account last year for personal reasons. The topic is more or less the same, but with different characters and some changes that work much better for this version. I'm posting this with the blessing and approval of the giftee of the first version.  
> The tagging of Rape/Non-Con is because of the mind oppression Ronon and the other Wraith are experiencing.
> 
> Kind feedback and encouragement are love and the best reward for any author, so if you like this story, please let me know!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronon wakes up being bound to a hard surface, disorientated and trying to figure out what happened to him. The next shock hits him when he realizes who his captor is - and what he did to him to turn him into his devoted servant and use him as a tool for his revenge and the destruction of Atlantis...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is written entirely from Ronon's POV, so only events involving him will occur.  
> If you liked this first chapter, please let me know! <33

Consciousness came back to him slowly.

He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were too heavy, and they felt as someone had rubbed sand into them, refusing to obey him and open up at his command. Every single bone and muscle in his body was aching, and he felt sick and dizzy, his surroundings spinning around him, even though he still couldn't see them as his eyes remained firmly closed. He remembered the last time he'd been on board a ship – a real ship sailing on the waters, not a space ship – but this here was different, as if he'd spun around his own axis for too long.

A vague orange glow was penetrating his closed lids, and it stung in his hurting eyes,even though it was barely more than a gloom, but he couldn't turn his head without his sickness getting worse instantly.

He didn't know what had happened to him, and for a moment, he didn't even know who he was.

With his senses and perception increasing bit by bit the longer he was awake, he became aware that he was strapped to something hard and unyielding, his arms and legs spread apart and bound to the hard surface at his wrists and his ankles. He flexed his fingers, but the iron chains keeping him immobile didn't even give in for a single inch. The surface wasn't rough like stone, so it probably wasn't a wall, but something wooden or made of metal as well, this was hard to tell as he was still dressed and his senses still too dulled by the drugs he must have gotten to tell him more about his prison.

He could sense that he was kept in an upright position, though, and he tugged at his chains again, the hard and cold metal rubbing the tender skin on the inside of his wrists sore. A weak groan escaped his dry lips, and his tongue felt too big for his mouth all of a sudden. He gagged, and another pained groan made its way to his ears, a little bit louder than the first one.

“You're finally awake, very well.”

The voice cut through the dreadful silence that followed his groan unexpectedly, hardly more than a whisper, but still so loud that it caused another wave of pain to surge through his tortured body. It sounded strange and yet familiar, raspy and filled with both venom and pleased satisfaction. The speaker must stand in front of him, and very close, because he could feel their breath ghosting over his face, and he wanted to turn his head away, but couldn't, something strange keeping him paralyzed with a sense of lethal threat that was looming in the orange glow and waiting to kill him.

He made another attempt to open his heavy lids, and this time he succeeded. The effort of this small motion made his heart beat painfully against his ribs and his sickness become worse, but he needed to see who his captor was, and he balled his hands to fists in grim determination, ignoring the small droplets of blood that trickled down his wrists when the chains cut into the skin again.

At first all he could see was a dark shadow against the dim orange glow that seemed to emanate from the stony walls themselves that were surrounding him instead from a single source of light somewhere on the ceiling. The figure seemed familiar to him again, and he strained his eyes as he forced them to adapt to the sudden brightness when the orange changed to a brighter yellow and the dark figure standing right in front of him was shaped into a person made of flesh and blood at last.

The long black coat, the short grayish hair, the menacing look on the other one's face, he'd truly believed that he'd never see him again after what had happened in Atlantis almost a year ago.

“Michael. Michael Kenmore!” 

He'd intended to let the name sound like a growl, but nothing more than a raspy whisper came out of his mouth, and to his utter dismay, it sounded scared and not furious and contemptuous like it should have sounded.

“I'm pleased that you still recognize me.” The Wraith-hybrid tilted his head, his yellow eyes traveling over his tied body in contentment.

“You're dead! They saw you falling. Not even you could survive that fall!” he croaked out, and Michael Kenmore's lips curled into an ugly smile.

“One of us was killed, but I'm alive as you can see. What does it tell you?”

It couldn't be. His brain refused to acknowledge the truth, but it was the only logical explanation, and the Wraith-hybrid had done the same beforehand with Carson Beckett. None of them had believed that the former Wraith Michael Kenmore would go so far and do that, but it was the only possibility left if he didn't want to believe that he'd survived the downfall from one of Atlantis' highest towers.

He swallowed, fighting desperately against his sickness, and he needed a moment before his voice obeyed him again. “He cloned himself, like he cloned Beckett. You're his clone.”

The yellow eyes shone in a dangerous light, and the clone who was Michael Kenmore and yet wasn't the real Michael at the same time bared his teeth to a hiss.

“Yessss, I am. He made sure that his mission would be accomplished even if he died, and I was woken up in the moment of his death. It took me some time to prepare everything for the revenge I will take on all of you for his death, but here I am. I might be his clone, but I _am_ him in everything that matters, don't you doubt that. I share all of his memories, his many talents and skills, his knowledge – and his thirst for revenge for what you all did to him – to me. You will help me getting my revenge, you will be the tool I will revenge his death with.”

He swallowed again, lifting his chin up, even though it let another jolt of searing pain shoot through his skull.

“I won't. You'll better kill me now, because I'll fight you with all I have.” he snarled, and this time his voice was a real growl, his fury making him forget his pain and his complete horror for a moment.

Michael didn't look impressed at his protest, and he slowly glided to the side to reveal a large mirror he'd covered with his own body until now.

The mirror was placed opposite him, and the lights in his cell increased again now, probably at Michael's mental command. He might be the clone of the real Michael Kenmore, the one who'd found his death in the abyss between Atlantis' towers, but he'd been right when he'd said that he was Michael in each and every regard that mattered. A clone was much more than just a twin, for him as Michael's prisoner it made no real difference whether he had to fight against the former Michael or against his own clone.

“Look at yourself,” the Wraith-hybrid now said, “look at yourself and see what you are now – who you are now, so much better, so beautiful and perfect.”

He didn't want to obey Michael's command, but his eyes shifted away from the clone to the mirror of their own accord, and when he hesitated, there was a painful pressure on his brain all of a sudden, a whispering voice that was only audible in his head, and which ordered him to look into the mirror more and more insistently.

He gasped in shock when he turned his head to look into the mirror fully against his own will, the pressure increasing and the voice becoming louder each time he tried to fight it.

“What did you do to me? Get out of my head!” he wanted to roar, but his voice was weak again, and the pain made sweat break out on his skin despite the cold air in the still rather gloomy cell.

“Just look for yourself and appreciate my work.” Michael folded his arms before his chest, perfectly at ease with himself.

He did, and his eyes widened in complete shock and disbelief.

He stared into the mirror, and he could recognize himself – or better what was left of him – but that was all he could do, his features frozen into a mask of utter horror.

His hair still had the same color, but it had ashed with a tinge of gray, while his skin had paled to an unhealthy grayish-white. His veins were visible and prominent now as well, a dark pattern of thin and thicker lines that were crossing his face, his arms and his torso and flowing under his pale skin like chthonic rivers.

He still possessed hairy brows, but his sockets had bulged to prominent ridges that gave his human features the kind of alien look that he'd always hated more than anything else in his life whenever he'd seen it.

The worst thing were the small slits beside his nose, though, two sensor pits he hadn't had before the Wraith-hybrid clone had captured him. All in all he looked almost more Wraith than human any longer now, turned into a hybrid like Michael Kenmore had become one because of Beckett's retro-virus and the lasting effects it had had on his entire physiology and also on his appearance.

He stared at his reflection in the large mirror, at his alien features and his altered body with the horrible pattern of veins pulsing under his skin, and he clenched his fingers in the desperate attempt to free himself and kill the monster that had done this to him.

The iron chains creaked, but they didn't give in, and more blood trickled from the wounds his bonds had already ripped open earlier. Michael's pleased chuckle rang in his ears when he noticed his reaction to his new appearance, and he tore at the chains again, but to no avail.

Ronon Dex opened his mouth and screamed, and then everything went black again for a rather long time.

*~*~*

The next hours and days, maybe even weeks, Ronon couldn't be sure about that as he'd lost all tracks of time, were an endless array of blackness and various and different states of consciousness that were filled with more pain and horror as his body and mind struggled to adjust to the changes that had been forced upon him.

Michael was always there when he was pulled roughly from another deep coma that brought merciful forgetting for at least some hours, and Ronon was too weak to fight against him and the food and water the Wraith-hybrid made him swallow down despite his objections and his futile fights.

Ronon stopped thinking of him as a clone as the terrible creature looked and behaved like the real Michael Kenmore had done, sometimes purring and almost begging him that he would finally stop fighting against him, sometimes threatening him with the consequences Ronon's friends would have to suffer if he didn't cooperate at last. But no matter what kind of manipulation Michael chose to use on him, Ronon could feel his resolve slowly but unstoppably crumbling, and that the half-Wraith could crawl into his head and feast on his horror without Ronon being able to keep him out of his mind was worse than any torture he could have inflicted on his body – his change to a Wraith-hybrid included.

As time went by, Ronon started to recover, his body adjusting against his will and becoming stronger and more and more resistant to physical pain. He was still fighting against the restrictions that kept him trapped to the examination table Michael could move into several positions when he experimented with him, but he didn't feel the wounds anymore and found himself staring in surprise at the dried stains of blood on his pale skin where small wounds had been only a few seconds ago.

The one thing that aroused the biggest horror in him next to the fact that Michael could invade his mind so easily and violate his mental integrity, was the different kind of hunger he started to feel, and which became worse with every day that passed. It was like a fire raging deep in his abdomen, spreading into his whole body from there, an all-consuming heat that was driving him wild far too quickly.

He turned his wrist in his shackles with a hiss, but there was no opening visible in his palm, no slit or stinger. Still, the hunger grew more and more, and Ronon's screams filled his prison cell until his throat was too sore to form any sound for the next hours any longer.

Sometimes, when he was awake, but still and motionless, listening to his own heartbeat, he could hear distant noises that sounded like the screams of another prisoner Michael must hold captive, and Ronon felt connected to this poor creature in some strange way he couldn't really explain.

He still didn't remember what had happened before the clone Michael had brought him to this place, but he remembered that he'd been on a mission when it had happened. He'd asked Sheppard for getting some time off to search for another few Satedan survivors a merchant who'd visited Atlantis had told him about, nothing more than rumors, but enough that he simply had to see for himself whether or not those rumors were true.

Sheppard was busied with forming the alliance he and Todd had agreed on after their return to Pegasus, and Ronon was still struggling with the fact that his admired team leader and friend, the one who'd fought against the Wraith for so many years together with him, was now not only best friends with his new Wraith buddies all of a sudden, but even the lover and mate of one of them now.

Ronon had needed some time alone, even more as more and more New Lanteans seemed to be fascinated by their former lethal enemies all of a sudden, Major Lorne for example, and even McKay had stopped rambling about not wanting to be their next meal at some point. It disturbed the tall Satedan more than he'd wanted to admit, and leaving Atlantis for a while to make up his mind had seemed to be a good idea.

Now he couldn't help but wonder whether the story the merchant had told him had actually been true – or if it had been a well-thought and set up trap from the clone Michael to get his hands on him and use him for his terrible plans against Atlantis.

The next time Michael entered the lab Ronon's prison cell actually was, he was in a cheerful mood, all smiles and graces, and Ronon felt the well-known and so hated pressure build behind his eyes when the clone took control of his mind once more.

“Today is a good day, Ronon Dex. Your transformation is complete, and it has been a great success as I have to praise myself. My creator couldn't have made it any better, that's for sure. Today you can prove to me that you are worthy to become my student, and perhaps even my right hand one day.” 

The half-Wraith stepped closer to him, his yellow eyes, still so reptile and alien - even though he was half human - glittering dangerously in the orange light that was the only light Ronon had seen for weeks.

“I will release you from your restraints now, Ronon. You'll better behave and don't try anything stupid. It would be a shame to kill you – now that you're so much better than you've ever been – but I will do that without hesitating, don't you doubt that. My guards are waiting outside, their stunners are switched to killing mode, and not even your enhanced physiology will withstand several deadly shots from Wraith stunners.”

The voice in his head made a terrible ache hammer behind his temples, and Ronon gritted his teeth.

“My people will come for me, and then it will be you suffering a painful death, clone!” he spat out, but Michael only chuckled.

“They're not searching for you. You have found your friends from Sateda, and you didn't want to be part of an alliance with your worst enemies, so you decided to leave Atlantis. Sheppard was not amused, but he accepted your decision like a real man, Ronon. Or have you forgotten that no one knows about my existence? For your friends Michael Kenmore is dead, and you're happy with your new friends, so they won't come for you. You'll better accept that you belong to me now. I know that you have served one of my former brethren so well for some time – until Sheppard thought that 'saving' you from your services would be an act of mercy and friendship. You've already once called a Wraith your master, and you'll learn to do it again.”

“NO!!! Never!” Ronon roared, but the voice in his head made it hard for him to form any coherent thought, and his body didn't obey his brain's orders when Michael released him from the chains and he tried to raise his fists to attack him. The fire of this new kind of hunger was blazing in every fiber of his being, and it clouded his mind and weakened his resolve to kill his tormentor and try to escape him.

“You're a quick learner as I can see, but I didn't expect anything less,” Michael stated contentedly, “you must know that I didn't just manipulate and enhance your body, but also took over control of your mind to some extent. You cannot fight me, your new DNA and the mind-link I've established with your altered brain won't allow you to harm me, so don't even try it.”

The Wraith-hybrid turned around and waved at Ronon to follow him when he was finally freed from his chains and standing on his own two feet for the first time in ages again.

His legs felt wobbly at first, and he almost lost his balance when he tried to walk, but he soon found his equilibrium again and followed Michael out of the lab, realizing that he needed to find out more about the place where the clone kept him as a prisoner before he could think of an escape-plan. Patience was nothing that came naturally to the tall Satedan, but he'd learned to be patient and wait for the best chance during his years as a runner, and his mind was clear enough at the moment to realize that just attacking the monster walking in front of him wouldn't get him anywhere, but only lead to his death.

The prospect of having to live his life as a half-Wraith was nothing he could actually stand imagining for just one second, but Dr. Beckett and Jennifer might be able to find a cure if he ever managed to get back to Atlantis, and Ronon clung to this hope when as he walked behind Michael, the nightmarish creatures he'd called his guards stalking behind him and pointing with their stunners at his back and his head.

Their way led them through several long corridors until Michael finally pushed another metal door open and a large hall became visible behind the door. The center of the hall was a large round, the floor several meters lower than the rest of the room, enclosed by a metal railing. It looked like a fighting arena with four rows of stands for the visitors and a chair that resembled the throne of a Wraith queen, and which was standing on a pedestal at the other side of the hall, opposite the entrance.

The arena wasn't empty, the lonely figure standing in the middle of the round with its back to them looking like a marble statue at first, but then it slowly turned around to face the newcomers.

The Wraith was tall, but lean and not of the broad build most Wraith drones or their simple warriors possessed. His long hair was only slightly wavy and tied back to a low ponytail at the nape of his neck, his chin adorned with a small goatee. His face was without a tattoo, but Ronon could see the lines of several black tattoos on his naked torso and his arms, barely covered by the sleeveless black tunic that was only held together with a black belt around his slim waist.

Black leather pants hugged his long legs like a second skin, bulging a bit at his calves where they were stuffed into heavy black boots that almost reached up to his knees. His skin was pale, but it lacked the usual greenish color and had an almost humanoid rosy underlayer. The pits beside his nose were still there, but rather small, and his brow-ridges were less prominent than what Ronon was used to by other Wraith.

Full Wraith.

This one had once been a full Wraith, but he was now a hybrid too, altered and changed because of Michael Kenmore's experiments. Ronon could see that he was still much more Wraith than human, but he couldn't suppress the cold shiver that was wrecking him at the sight of the creature Michael had turned one of his former brothers into, nevertheless.

Once a Wraith, always a Wraith, Ronon would better not forget that.

Their eyes met when the Wraith slowly turned his head to avert his attention from both of their tormentor to look at Ronon instead, and the tall Satedan suddenly knew that he'd listened to the screams of the Wraith and felt this strange connection to him when he'd been alone in his prison cell, tied to the table so helpless and defenseless and feeling so incredibly lonely.

They stared each other in the eyes for several seconds, and Ronon could feel Michael watching him, but he didn't avert his eyes from the Wraith. The other male lifted his chin up, just a little bit, and Ronon bared his teeth to a hiss at the challenge.

“Let me introduce you to one of my former brothers, Ronon Dex – one of the brothers of my former self, I mean. His queen was so impudent to think that she could destroy the ship of my creator just like that, and he rewarded her by taking her best officers as prisoners and then killing her while she was still sitting on her throne. 

Unfortunately, most of his brothers died during the experiments, but this one here was strong enough to survive the alterations and become even stronger and better. I finished his transformation after the first Michael died because of you and your friends, and he's my faithful servant now, uniting the best skills and abilities of both races in him.

He still needs to feed now and then, but not as often as he once had to do, and he can actually digest solid food and gain nutrients out of it. He almost goes for a proper human with a few more changes and some makeup, but his healing powers are still intact, and he will live for much longer than any real human could ever imagine to live without aging – just like you now, my friend.”

“I'm not your friend, Wraith,” Ronon hissed, his eyes never leaving the strange but somehow striking features of Michael's other prisoner. 

“Not yet. But you will be, just like him.”

Michael pointed at the arena. “You will show me your fighting skills today, Ronon Dex. You have proven to be a rather good fighter when you were still only human, and I expect you to show me your full new potential and increased skills today. Don't be afraid, he can take a few hits without suffering to much damage.”

“I'm not afraid of harming any Wraith, clone!” Ronon snarled, but Michael only snorted.

“Still so overbearing and indignant. You're _Wraith_ yourself now, you should better remember that, Satedan with the big mouth!”

Ronon roared, trying to jump forward and attack the clone, but the Wraith, who'd stood in the arena silently and motionless until now, set into fast motion without any warning when Ronon threw himself forward and reached for Michael with his now also clawed fingers to go for the clone's throat, and the next thing he knew was that he was lying flat on his back, the Wraith looming over him and his bent knee pressing into Ronon's stomach, while the Wraith's long fingers were enclosing his throat to keep him glued to the hard floor.

“I'll kill you, Wraith!” Ronon roared, and his opponent bore his glittering eyes into his and increased the pressure on his stomach and on his throat. His eyes were not yellow like the eyes of the clone hybrid, but of an astonishing green-golden color, and they seemed to look straight into Ronon's soul. Ronon stared back up defiantly, his teeth bared and his hands tearing at the Wraith's arms to shake him off, but the other male was stronger than he was and kept him down easily.

“I'll kill you first if you'll ever try that again, human,” he said, his multi-toned voice impassive as his face was, except for his glowing eyes.

“Leave him be.” Michael had stopped in the middle of the arena, and he now turned around and slowly opened his coat as he came back to them. Ronon could see that he didn't wear anything underneath, and another cold shiver wrecked him when his gaze fell onto the web of thin scars on Michael's sternum.

The Wraith hesitated, but he rose to his feet after a moment or so, his hands hanging loosely at his sides and his nostrils flaring as he waited for his master's next order. Ronon was too stunned to get back up when he was free to move again, and he could see the Wraith's fingers flexing and stretching at his sides.

The clone hybrid stepped closer to Ronon's opponent, reaching out with his left hand to stroke the other male's cheek in some kind of twisted caress.

“My defensor. I taught you well, and you were such an eager student. You shall be rewarded for your faithfulness.”

The Wraith bared his teeth in anticipation, and the smell of Wraith enzyme filled the air a second later. Ronon jumped to his feet and moved backwards, bending his torso in self-defense, but Michael and the Wraith ignored him, looking at each other instead, and the clone Michael Kenmore took the Wraith's right hand and lifted it to his mouth to lick at the creamy-white droplets of enzyme that had leaked out of the feeding slit at the prospect of the feeding.

Ronon's opponent shivered visibly, and Michael's nostrils flared, his yellow reptile eyes leaving the Wraith's face and fixating on Ronon's changed features as he finally pressed the hand against his sternum with a noise that was something in between a hiss of pain and a moan of pure delight.

Ronon watched in horror how the Wraith began to feed on his master and Michael threw his head back in ecstasy with another sound of pleasure. Time stood still as the former runner tried to process the things happening right in front of him, and a sound of horror and disgust escaped him when Michael forced himself behind his mental barriers once more, to let Ronon participate in the feeding and the pleasure it aroused in both – the clone hybrid and his changed Wraith prisoner.

He was shaking and bathed in cold sweat, aching with his own unfulfilled hunger and desire, when Michael tore the Wraith's hand away from his chest rather rudely and abruptly after some minutes, and the Wraith hissed in pain about the sudden interruption.

“Enough for today. You'll be allowed more when you have proven yourself to be an useful teacher to him.”

The Wraith-hybrid clone lifted the other one's hand to his mouth again, licking up the rest of the enzyme and his own blood. His wounds were already healing to add to the pattern of thin scars crossing his sternum, and he hadn't aged at all, only his hair appeared to be a little bit whiter than it had looked like before the feeding, but Ronon suspected that it would return to its usual dark-gray color when Michael had recovered from the feeding.

“I will not disappoint you, my master,” the Wraith said, bowing his head in submission, and Michael let go of his hand and strode to the throne-like chair to seat himself there.

“Start with the sticks,” he ordered, and the Wraith nodded and turned around to Ronon again.

“You've heard our master, Satedan. Take the sticks and prove to us that you have the heart of a warrior, and not the heart of a cowardly human.” He bent down to take two pairs of long sticks from the floor, and which Ronon hadn't noticed lying there beforehand because he'd been too busied with his horror to pay attention to his surroundings.

They flew through the air, and he caught them with one swift move. Strength was floating through his body, inhuman strength. His senses were on high alert when the Wraith began to circle him with his own pair of sticks, both of them waiting for the best moment to attack the other one.

The Wraith was nothing more than a whirling shadow when he jumped high into the air in the very next second, but Ronon's eyesight had increased like all of his other senses, and he jumped towards the whirling figure with a battle cry to surprise him and block his blow, their sticks clattering against each other when both hit the ground again. The next half an hour passed by in a blur of attacks, hits and more attacks and hits, shouts and grunts as they wielded their sticks and crashed into one another again and again. The Wraith lost the band that held his hair together, and Ronon's tunic got several cuts and holes just like his arms and his torso, but he didn't notice any of that, the voice in his head urging him to move faster and faster and defeat his adversary at all costs.

He didn't know how many time had passed when Michael's voice cut through the air, heavy with the smell of blood and pheromones.

“Stop, that's enough for today!”

The Wraith came to an abrupt halt, stumbling backwards when Ronon couldn't stop his own attack at the command right in time, and then they stood there face to face, their chests heaving and their eyes spitting angry fire at each other.

“You did well, Ronon Dex. You shall be rewarded for your first good performance.”

Ronon averted his eyes from the Wraith to stare at the clone. Michael had risen from his throne and was walking towards them. He stopped only few inches apart from him, and Ronon wanted to avoid his touch when Michael reached out to stroke his cheek like he'd done it earlier with his former brother. But he couldn't move, and a small noise of self-disgust escaped his bitten lips when Kenmore's cold fingers touched his burning face, and he leaned into it against his will, driven by the voice in his head that told him to obey and give in to his master.

“I can feel your hunger, Ronon, the hunger of a Wraith that is raging inside you since I started to turn you into my creature. Now you finally know how it's like to be Wraith and suffer from their insatiable hunger. How does it feel, Satedan? Can you understand now what a starving Wraith is going through, and why the lives of your own brothers and sisters cannot matter to us?” The Wraith-hybrid purred, and Ronon let out a furious growl at his words, but he couldn't deny the truth behind them any longer, no matter how much he hated himself for that. Michael regarded him silently for a moment before he continued to speak, his fingers still trailing over Ronon's sweaty face. 

“You have asked yourself how you can experience this kind of hunger without having a hand-mouth to quench it. You don't need that. There is another way to quench the fire that is burning inside you, Satedan.”

Michael jerked his head at the Wraith demandingly, and the other male hissed in annoyance, but obediently opened his tunic and cocked his head to the side invitingly to expose his vulnerable throat to Ronon's hungry stare.

“This is even better, Ronon, believe me. You will like it so much. Just accept who you are now - and don't deny yourself what is rightfully yours any longer.” Michael said in this horrible purring voice. 

Ronon closed his eyes as he fought against the overwhelming urge to sink his teeth into the Wraith's throat with all he had, but the pressure behind his eyes made stars of pain explode before his closed lids, and then there was another voice audible in his head, separated from Michael's demanding presence in his head and much quieter, but still intelligible and easy to detect.

_'Do it. Feed on me. Don't fight him, not this way. You'll have to learn to be patient and accept what you cannot change. Then we'll have the chance to defeat him when the time is right, together. Now obey and do what he wants you to do before he'll realize that I'm talking to you.'_

Ronon opened his eyes with a gasp, staring at the Wraith, but the other male's face was stoic, only his devotion for his clone-master visible on his altered features. Ronon darted a brief glance at Michael, who was looking at him attentively as he waited for Ronon to succumb to his need and feed on his opponent, but without giving any sign that he'd noticed the presence of another being in Ronon's head.

“Do it, Ronon. You're not human anymore, and you belong to me now. Obey me, and you shall be rewarded again and earn your place at my side. If you don't, I will kill you and take one of your friends to make them be my warrior.”

_'Do what he said, feed on me.'_

Ronon swallowed, stepping closer to the Wraith. His eyes were hurting from the far too bright light, and he felt sick because of the heavy smells of sweat and pheromones hanging in the air. He was exhausted from the fight and yet brimming with too much energy, and his damp clothes were scratchy on his over-sensitive skin. His teeth ached with the need to taste the dark blood he could see pulsing under the pale skin of his throat, and he was too tired to fight against the painful need any longer.

Ronon leaned forward and finally sank his teeth into the Wraith's throat, and when the iron and earthy taste of blood filled his mouth, he stopped fighting and started to drink.


	2. Aerwyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronon and the other Wraith the clone Michael Kenmore has trapped have fought against each other, and now they're forced to share the same prison cell right after the clone has made Ronon drink from the other Wraith's blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story belongs to the world I have started building with the first part _**Under the Eagle's Shadow**_ , and in this world my Wraith have names which are given to them by their queens. The name I have chosen for the Wraith Ronon comes closer to in this story is based on the ancient Germanic name _**Erwin**_ and other versions of it: Herwin, Ermin (which could for example have been the original name of the Cheruscan Arminius, who defeated three legions under the command of Quintilius Varus in the Teutobur Forest), old English: Irwin or Erwyn, Erwinn.  
> The origin of Erwin comes from the two ancient Germanic word ' _era-wini'_ esteem and friend, and the meaning of Erwin is _'friend of the army'_.  
> I changed Erwin into _**Aerwyn**_ and the meaning into 'first warrior of her armies'. I thought this to be a good name for a proud Wraith who could win Ronon's respect, and I didn't want Ronon to do the naming because I really didn't know what he would come up with perhaps, hence my decision to make this story a part of the world that starts with Areon's adventures among Roman legions on Earth. :-)

The Wraith's blood filled his mouth, and Ronon wanted more, he _needed_ so much more.

More of its taste, so rich and enticing, the unique mixture of iron and earth mingling to something Ronon became addicted to with the first gulp. More of its thick and yet smooth texture and the way it filled him with new energy and strength, quenching the burning inside his tortured and abused body like nothing else could do.

Ronon growled and bit down harder, desperate to taste more and more, his urge to sink his teeth deeper into the surprisingly smooth and soft throat of his opponent erasing any other coherent though that might have been left in his dazed mind. The other male groaned, and a shiver wrecked his body, but he didn't try to pull away from the teeth biting him. On the contrary, the Wraith pressed even closer after a short moment of struggling, and his pained groan turned into a moan of pleasure when Ronon started to suck harder and faster, his only wish to ease the pain of his own hunger and feast on the powerful source of life and energy that had been offered to him by his captor.

Seconds blurred into minutes as Ronon sated his hunger, quenching the fire that had tortured him so much, and he roared furiously when he was pulled from the source of delicious nourishment rudely and unexpectedly.

“NO!” he screamed, his vision clouded with red fury as he fought against the hands keeping him trapped and away from the Wraith now, and it took him a moment to focus on the harsh voice that was growling into his ears.

“Enough, Satedan! You will get more later, but you still have to prove yourself to me!” Michael hissed, and Ronon's head snapped around with another angry snarl, his bared teeth still stained with the Wraith's dark blood, and his changed features contorted to a grimace of hate and barely contained ire.

The stared each other in the eyes for several long seconds, and Ronon's hands clenched at his sides, but whatever it was that the clone of the first Wraith-hybrid Michael Kenmore had done to him, it kept him immobile and didn't allow him to attack the almost perfect copy of his deceased creator. Michael's lips pulled into a dangerous smile as he watched Ronon struggle against the invisible restraints that held his mind in their iron grip, and he slowly stepped back and let go of him when he was sure that Ronon wouldn't try to feed on his other prisoner again.

The clone jerked his head at his guards. “Bring both of them back to the Wraith's cell. I want them to get familiar with each other. Our new guest has to learn that he's no longer the one he used to be, and that he's entirely my creature now, and it will be easier for him when he's not alone the whole time.”

Michael stepped closer to the Wraith who was standing there motionless, his face a mask of calm and indifference, but his glittering green-golden eyes were fixated on Kenmore's face, their expression one of utmost devotion and servility. His blood was still coating his throat where Ronon's sharp teeth had left two rather big wounds. They were already healed, but the traces of the feeding were still evident on his pale skin, dark spots against lighter rosy grayness. The Wraith didn't even seem to notice the dried blood on his throat, and he bowed his head when the clone laid his fingers under his chin and stepped closer to him.

“You will teach him what it means to be Wraith, my beautiful one. You will teach him what it means to be chosen by me and serve me, understood?” the clone purred, and Ronon couldn't suppress a shiver of utter disgust when he listened to Kenmore calling the Wraith his 'beautiful one' a pet name that was usually used only by lovers.

“Yes, my master. I will not disappoint you.” The Wraith let Michael force his head up until he had to crane his neck back in a way that must hurt him, but the look of devotion in his eyes never faltered, and Ronon felt icy-cold fear creep into his bones when he realized fully that the same fate was awaiting him sooner or later. The clone Michael Kenmore would achieve what his creator hadn't managed to accomplish, turning him into a creature without its own will, and he would use him to take revenge on Atlantis and his friends in the end. Ronon was at his complete mercy, and there was nothing he could do to stop this from happening.

*~*~*

Ronon didn't know how long much time had passed since they'd been brought to the room where Michael had kept the Wraith hidden from him so far. It wasn't a lab, but a sparsely furnished room with two cots that were attached to the stony walls, a small table that was fixed to the hard stony floor and two chairs. A small door led to a restroom where both of them could see to their bodily needs and wash their hands and faces with the cold water from the sink, but Michael had been thorough and made sure that there was nothing he could use as a weapon.

It was probably a strange and new experience for his inmate that he had similar bodily needs as his human prey all of a sudden, forced to eat and digest solid food, and the stoic calm the Wraith seemed to endure everything that was done to him with was getting on Ronon's nerves and aroused the wish in him to beat his inmate with his fists until the other one would lie dead before his feet.

The Wraith sat on one of the cots with crossed legs, his hands resting in his lab, and his eyes were closed as if he was meditating. He had been sitting like this and ignoring Ronon ever since they'd been brought back here, and Ronon felt confused because of what had happened after their fight, right before he'd fed on him. Had it been real when the Wraith – who wasn't a real Wraith any longer – had talked to him from mind to mind? Or had he simply imagined the strange voice in his head, so different from the clone's hissing voice in his head he'd come to fear and hate so much over the last weeks?

Ronon balled his fists and let out a growl, and he found himself unable to stop pacing back and forth in the small room. A caged predator must feel like he felt now, every cell in his body brimming with too much energy he needed a valve for so badly.

“Stop that, Ronon Dex. You're just wasting your energy. You need to calm down and gain a clear and focused mind again.”

The Wraith's words broke the silence just when Ronon had started to think that he only spoke when Michael expected an answer from him, and he whirled around on his heels and glared angrily at the Wraith's sitting figure. His inmate kept his eyes closed though, and he looked untroubled and as though he didn't fear that Ronon could attack him any minute.

“Don't give me orders, _Wraith_!” he spat out with as much hatred as he was able to muster, “you'll be the first one I'll kill when I have found a way out of here.”

The Wraith slowly opened his green-golden eyes, and Ronon took a startled step back when he could suddenly taste the iron and earthy scent of the other one's blood on his tongue again, the memory of how it had felt to feed on his blood making another wave of painful hunger shoot through him. The other male regarded him attentively, and Ronon got the impression that he knew exactly how his new inmate felt, even though he didn't try to invade his mind. Ronon had fought so many times against Michael's intrusion that he would definitely sense it if the Wraith were trying to do that.

“You won't make it out of here alone, Ronon Dex, and the sooner you'll accept that, the sooner we'll find a way to defeat the one your people call Michael Kenmore together.” the Wraith stated calmly, and Ronon dug his nails so hard into his palms that he could feel tiny droplets of blood moisten his hands.

“He's not even the real Michael Kenmore. That one is dead,” he growled, and the Wraith slowly nodded his head. “I know. But there's no difference between the first one and his clone. They're both a threat to this galaxy and need to be defeated.” He rose to his feet to stalk over to where Ronon was standing in one corner of their prison cell with his back to the wall, bent forward from his waist on and ready to defend himself and attack his hated room mate if he so much as only thought of making a false move.

The Wraith didn't let himself be impressed by the hate and wrath he could see in Ronon's eyes, and his musky scent was filling Ronon's nose and the sensor slits beside it when he glided closer with elegant motions, reaching out to enclose Ronon's right wrist with his long fingers and turn it upside down.

Ronon wanted to pull out of his grip, but he couldn't move, and he just stared at the altered creature the clone-hybrid Michael had turned the Wraith into, his chest heaving with his raged breathing.

“Open your fist, Satedan,” the other male demanded, his voice quiet but holding a clear warning.

“No!” Ronon croaked out, but he couldn't avert his eyes from the glittering gaze, and his fingers relaxed and stretched against his own will, allowing the Wraith access to his palm and the blood he'd drawn when he'd dug his nails into his palms. The alien warrior lifted Ronon's bloody hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ronon's face.

Ronon watched as he pressed his palm against his mouth to lick up his still much lighter red human blood, and he realized with utter dismay that the tingling deep in his belly at the touch of a cool and agile tongue was a tingling of arousal, and not one of disgust. They stared at each other silently when the Wraith repeated the motion with his left hand when he was done with the right one, licking up the blood from his other palm as well.

“The heart of a true warrior is beating in your chest, Ronon Dex,” the Wraith said when he released his hand from his surprisingly gentle grip. “The stories about you have been true as I can see. My race has always respected you as an equal hunter during your time as a runner, and many of my brethren have left their Hives to hunt you down, but only few of them have returned home again, and those who did have told the story about a true warrior who couldn't be defeated by any Wraith.

The only one who can defeat you is you – if you don't don't remember the lessons life has taught you during those years. You have to become a runner again if you want to defeat Michael, think like a runner, feel like a runner and show the patience of a runner. Don't let your wrath and your hate get the better out of you, because your hate and your wrath will only play into Kenmore's hands and lead to your own doom.”

The Wraith turned around and stalked back to the cot to sit down on it again and re-adopt his posture from minutes ago, and Ronon blinked, but followed him after a few seconds of stunned silence, sitting down onto the other cot attached to the opposite wall.

He looked down at his palms, no blood visible on them any longer, and the small wounds his teeth had left there were already healed. When he gazed back up again, he found the Wraith's eyes directed at him.

“We're brothers in blood now, Ronon Dex,” the Wraith said, “our blood has become one, and we will either escape together – or die here together – it's your choice to make.”

Ronon's gaze flickered to the ceiling, then over the walls and back to the face of the alien warrior. “Why are you telling me all of this? What kind of trick and deception is this? Michael is surely watching us and listening to what we're talking about. How will I know that this is not just a way to get information out of me? You don't wanna tell me that you can deceive him so easily? How can you hide your true thoughts from him after what he did to you?”

The Wraith bared his teeth. “Oh yes, of course, you're doubting the truth of my words. I have fought against him for many weeks and months. I'm much longer here than you are. He controlled me, but as a Wraith I know how to keep parts of my thoughts and feelings a secret from my brethren if I wish to keep them private, and weeks of training helped me to win my control back and only let him know what I want him to know. Just listen to your feelings, Ronon Dex, you would know it if this was just a trap – much better than he'll ever be able to do. You're a warrior, your instincts are much better than the instincts of most people. Do you think that I'm lying to you?”

Ronon stared into the green-golden eyes of the other warrior, and he slowly shook his head.

“No, you're not lying, Wraith,” he said, and the other one inclined his head.

“Thank you, Ronon Dex. I value your instincts higly. Apart from the achievement to keep my real feelings hidden from our captor I have also gained control over some of his guards, and they have been manipulating his equipment. He will only see and hear what I want him to see and hear. Kenmore's biggest weakness is his arrogance and his feeling of superiority, and knowing that it is easy to deceive him and give him what he wants to have from me to lure him into false security. But you're right, we need to communicate telepathically most of the time if we don't want to arouse his suspicions.”

“I won't let you mess with my head, no way, Wraith!” Ronon hissed, and the Wraith made a calming gesture with his hand.

“I have no intention to do that, but it's the only way if we want to find a way out of here. Let's be honest, Satedan: we're both enemies – and under different circumstances we would fight against each other and try to kill one another. But as things stand we're needing each other's help, and I don't know what you want, but I don't want to die here or become Michael's obedient slave. So make up your mind and tell me if we're both wanting the same thing. Our alliance will only be a temporary one, we'll part ways as soon as we'll be free to go wherever we want again. If you still want to kill me after our escape, then be my guest, you're welcome to try.”

Ronon stared into the altered features of the Wraith the clone of Michael Kenmore had trapped, so alien and yet so striking and beautiful. He must admit that the other one had a point here, and he remembered what Colonel Sheppard had done to escape Kolya. The thought of how much these events had changed Sheppard and that the colonel was the mate of a Wraith now made him want to scream and destroy everything within his reach, but their chances to escape together were better than if he tried to do that alone, and he was reasonable enough to acknowledge that, even though he didn't like it at all. But he needed to warn Atlantis, and they had to stop Michael at all costs.

The tall Satedan let out a low angry growl, but he reluctantly nodded his head.

“Do we have a deal then, Ronon Dex?” The Wraith had watched him silently, patiently, while Ronon had thought about his offer and finally made up his mind, his head cocked to the side as he observed him and the various emotions flickering over Ronon's face. He could probably still taste Ronon's blood on his tongue like Ronon could still taste his, and he nodded again, knowing that he didn't have any other chance than to agree to such a cooperation.

“We have a deal, Wraith,” he ground out through gritted teeth, and the Wraith smiled at him.

“Aerwyn.”

“Aerwyn?” Ronon repeated with a frown, the unknown word feeling strange on his tongue.

“That's my name, Ronon.”

“Wraith don't have names!” Ronon objected, and the Wraith – Aerwyn – narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. Ronon felt the well-known pressure behind his eyes, but he sensed that it wasn't Michael who tried to force himself behind his barriers and did his best to relax them and let his new ally in after another moment of hesitation.

Aerwyn didn't talk to him, instead he sent several pictures through their fragile link. Ronon could see a queen, seated graciously on her throne, and Aerwyn, still fully Wraith in this image, kneeling before her throne with his head lowered down in submission. She was beautiful, and she stood up and reached out with her hand. The Wraith kneeling before her feet rose and climbed the few steps up to her throne, his head still bent in devotion for his queen.

Even through the weak mental link Ronon could tell the difference between Aerwyn's bow before his queen and the way he bent his neck before Michael, and he wondered whether or not the clone was able to tell the difference as well.

 _'You have fought well, my brave warrior,' the queen in the image said to the Wraith, 'from now on, you'll be known as Aerwyn, 'first warrior of her armies'. You have brought honor to our clan, and your faith shall be rewarded, Aerwyn.' One of the faceless drones handed her a long dagger sheathed in shimmering black leather,_ and Ronon as the runner and fighter he'd been for almost all of his life could appreciate the beauty of the dagger that must have been forged by a truly skilled blacksmith.

The next picture was the image of Aerwyn walking in front of an army of Wraith, his face filled with pride about the honor his adored queen had bestowed on him. The images faded, and Ronon blinked against the dizziness that clouded his mind as he still wasn't used to having someone in his head like that. He searched for Aerwyn's eyes once more, and the Wraith looked back, his face a controlled mask to hide his grief about the loss he'd suffered when he'd been captured by Michael, and his home and everything that had ever meant anything to him had been taken away from him so cruelly.

“Wraith usually don't share the names they have been given by their queens with other Wraith clans or humans, Ronon Dex. But as we're brothers in blood now and have the same ultimate goal – defeating Kenmore's clone and escaping from this place - it is appropriate that I share my name with you.”

Ronon didn't move or talk for a rather long time, his gaze fixed on Aerwyn's alien features, that were so similar to his own changed features now, and yet still so different. When he finally spoke up again, his voice was calm and didn't betray the hate and fury he'd shown only minutes ago any longer.

“I still hate you, Aerwyn, and I will fight against you and kill you when our temporary alliance has come to an end. But I accept your offer for a truce until we have achieved what will bring us our freedom back.”

Aerwyn inclined his head. “So we will be brothers-in-arms until we'll be free and enemies again. I can respect that, Ronon Dex. No lies and deceptions shall be between us, and I promise you that I will be an equal and worthy opponent when you're trying to kill me. For now get some rest, it won't be long until Michael will make us fight against each other again,” the Wraith said and closed his eyes once more.

Ronon regarded him for a moment or two before he did the same, crossing his legs and leaning against the hard wall behind his back. He let his mind drift, and Aerwyn's slow and calm breaths finally lulled him into a slumber of exhaustion while he could feel his dark alien blood running through his own veins, filling him with life and new strength and making him hunger for more.

It was the blood of the hated enemy that was yet forming the bond of brothers-in-arms between them, a strong connection Ronon hadn't realized until this moment how much he'd actually been missing this special bond that only true brothers in blood could share - a bond that was even stronger than hate and death.


	3. Fight!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronon is not only fighting against Aerwyn, but also against his new self and his old inner demons. Will he be able to overcome them and get the chance to escape Michael's clone together with Aerwyn's help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is slow these days, and this chapter took me longer than planned, and it turned out to become too long if I included the escape scene, so there will be five chapters instead of four. <33

Aerwyn had been right with what he'd said, and Ronon found himself been dragged back to the training arena together with his new Wraith brother-in-arms soon again.

Michael took greatest pleasure in watching them fight against each other, and his triumphant grin when he cheered either Ronon or Aerwyn on to beat and defeat the other one always made the fire of Ronon's hate and ire burn higher and higher. He hated the clone of the Wraith-hybrid so much, even more as he'd participated in creating the first Michael Kenmore years ago to such an important extent, and he really hated Aerwyn, but most of all he hated himself and what he'd become because he'd been too weak not to let it happen.

He'd let himself be trapped, chained and drugged, and he hadn't fought enough but had been too much of a coward to rather die than let Kenmore use and turn him into the ugly and unworthy creature he was now. The clone enjoyed torturing both of them by placing mirrors in a large circle around the arena to always remind them of who they were now even more than he enjoyed watching them fight against each other until they were bleeding, and Ronon could smell the clone's excitement and arousal with his heightened senses and almost taste it on his tongue.

After their fights, Michael's clone would let them sate their hunger when he was content with their performance, Aerwyn allowed to feed on Kenmore and Ronon be pushed to drink from Aerwyn's blood afterwards; and to his utter dismay, Ronon felt arousal growing in himself each time he was forced to watch Aerwyn feasting on the clone's life-force. It made his own hunger burn higher and higher, his desire to sink his teeth into the Wraith's vulnerable throat and drink his blood so strong that he could hardly keep himself together and from falling onto his knees and begging for his own reward.

He'd never felt so powerless and worthless in his entire life, not even when Sateda had been destroyed or during his time as a runner. He'd never been so disgusted by himself, and yet he couldn't attack the clone Wraith-hybrid or resist his orders, Michael had made sure of that with his experiments and transformation of Ronon's body and mind.

When the other Michael Kenmore stroked his cheeks with cool fingers, he always found himself leaning into the touch and craving for more, for his approval, and feeling the clone's eyes on his back when he was sating his hunger on Aerwyn's blood sent thrills of both horror and pleasure along his spine as much as the drinking itself did. He was always aching for more and yearning for another, even more dangerous, kind of hunger to be satisfied as well, and Aerwyn's knowing looks at him when Michael couldn't see them made his self-hatred and anger flare up again like a fire that could never be quenched.

Michael was still forcing his way behind his mental barriers on a regular basis, and Ronon was actually grateful for the lessons Aerwyn had taught him because his ability to keep some of his real thoughts and feelings hidden from their tormentor became better with each day that passed. He was still defiant and fighting against the clone, unable to feign the same devotion and servility his Wraith inmate displayed with such astonishing ease, but Kenmore's other prisoner assured him that he behaved exactly like their captor expected him to still behave, and that the clone would probably become suspicious if Ronon would start to behave like his devoted slave all of a sudden.

The knowledge that he could deceive his hated enemy at least partly was somewhat consoling, but it still didn't feel like it was enough, like he was not fighting against the clone of Michael Kenmore hard enough, and it was slowly but unstoppably driving him mad.

“Stop blaming yourself for what happened, Ronon Dex. There are things beyond your control and out of your reach, no matter how hard you will fight, and you need to learn this lesson quickly and accept it,” Aerwyn advised him one day when they were back in their small cell-like quarters again, sitting opposite each other at the table to eat one of the three meager meals they got every seven or eight hours.

His inmate was still much more Wraith than he was human, but the transformation Michael had inflicted on him was thorough enough that his mutated body required solid food again on a regular basis, and Ronon still didn't know how this could be, and how it was possible that the Wraith required both now, solid food and the life-force of another humanoid being at the same time.

“I will never accept what he did to me!” Ronon hissed through gritted teeth as quietly as he was able to do as he watched Aerwyn lifting the spoon to his mouth, as he was well aware that they were watched the whole time, and his eyes were spitting angry fire at the tall warrior before he could collect himself and lower his head down onto his own food.

“Then he has already won,” Aerwyn shrugged, focusing his attention on the bowl in front of him and ignoring the Satedan for the rest of their dinner. Ronon didn't know which time of the day it actually was, as they were trapped deep under the surface of the planet since clone Michael had captured him, but it was the third meal they had gotten after several hours of darkness in their cell during which they were supposed to sleep, so for him it felt like evening and dinner time. Soon, one of the guards would come and take the leftovers of their meal away, and then the lights would go out and leave them in darkness for the next hours.

Not that there was really full darkness in their cell, the tiny red and green lights of the cameras the Wraith-hybrid was watching them with during each hour of the day were enough for Ronon to yet see his surroundings rather clearly. The dark hours were also the time when Michael was watching them closely and he and Aerwyn had to rely on the mental connection that was forming between them. Lying motionless on their respective cots, they were talking telepathically and plotting plans how to escape and scrapping them again, and Ronon was terrified how much he was already craving this mental bond and Aerwyn's soothing and calming presence in his own empty and hurting mind.

 _'You need to stop thinking of yourself as human eventually.'_ Aerwyn's voice was calm and even sympathetic. _'Michael's clone changed you, you're not really halfway, but partly Wraith now, of course you long for the Hivemind that connects us.'_

 _'I'm_ not _Wraith, and I'll never be!'_ Ronon snarled back, and the soft amused chuckle he got in return made him clench his hands in the rough and scratchy bed sheet.

_'Still fighting, still so proud and defiant, warrior Ronon. But your hate and anger won't keep you alive and help you to escape your hunters this time. Your inner demons and fears are hunting you, Satedan, and they will defeat you if you don't give up on your blind fury and your hatred towards my kin.'_

Ronon stared at the dark ceiling, and he could feel Aerwyn's glittering golden eyes on his face when the Wraith turned on his side to regard him from over the distance between their cots. The attentive scrutiny under half closed heavy lids caused a strange tingling deep in his abdomen, and to his utter dismay, the Satedan recognized it as sexual arousal. The former runner had never understood the Earthen taboos regarding sexual relationships between two men, and he'd lain with men and women before his home world had been a destroyed, and also a few times since he was living in Atlantis as well, but the realization that he could feel desire for a _Wraith –_ even when this Wraith was partly turned into a human now – made him want to beat something with his fists until they were bleeding and the pain of his wounds would cover the pain and horror he was feeling in his heart and his mind about his forbidden desire for his most hated enemy.

 _'Don't tell me what to do,_ Wraith – _or how to fight my battles!'_ he sent back, desperately trying to hide his feelings from the other male.

_'It's astonishing that you could survive as a runner for seven years – considering that you are so unwilling to learn, Ronon Dex. You're not stupid, so start finally using your brain for something more useful than just spitting insults at any Wraith crossing your path. I'm not responsible for the destruction of your home world, nor was I the one turning you into a runner. We're both Michael's prisoners, and we can only escape him if we begin to trust each other and work together. It's easy to just keep clinging to your hate and blame me for everything bad that happened to you, but it's also the way of a coward._

_Tell me what you are, Ronon Dex – a coward or a true and brave warrior? Think carefully about the answer to my question, and when you're ready to give it to me, then we'll have a chance to come up with a real plan and escape Kenmore. Ask yourself which path you want to walk in the future, the path of the bitter coward who is too old to change his view on life and himself when he realizes that he's wrong - or the path of the brave warrior who is brave enough to learn and let go of the past. It's your choice, and your decision will tell us whether or not your inner demons will be stronger than your will to live and be a free man at the end of the day.'_

Aerwyn closed his eyes and put his hands under his pale cheek, his silver-white hair covering his face as he relaxed and allowed his exhaustion to take over and pull him into a deep slumber. Ronon was tired down to his bones himself after weeks of fighting in the arena again and again, but sleep fled him, and he couldn't stop thinking about what the damn Wraith had asked him.

Was he really a coward if he kept up hating all Wraith, or was this just another trap to manipulate him? His hate had been the only thing keeping him alive for so many years, and it had been going on for so long that his hate for those lethal enemies had become his entire existence. Ronon actually didn't know how he should live without it, fearing that he would lose everything if he actually let go of his hate and anger. But the Wraith part in him that was gaining more and more control over his mind and his actions with every day and hour that passed, and it was demanding that he would finally stop fighting against his new self and embrace his new needs, desires and abilities and explore them further and without any sign of regret.

He'd relished Aerwyn's blood, and nothing had ever tasted so delicious to him, so moreish and delightful. Nothing had ever nourished him the way the Wraith's dark claret nourished him, giving him strength and making him feel more powerful than ever before. He'd been turned into a worshiper and still remembered the unquestioning devotion and adoration he'd felt for his Wraith master back then, but he hadn't understood how it actually felt to _be_ Wraith, and as much as he was fighting against this part that belonged to him now, against this dark side that was pulling him under more and more, but his inner voice whispering to him that he had every right to feel this way and give in to the Wraith in him became louder the more he fought, and he didn't know how long he would still be strong enough to resist it.

Ronon listened to the calm and almost inaudible slow breaths coming from the other side of the room, and he focused on them as he tried to free his mind from any thought at all, eventually falling asleep as well, the question Aerwyn had asked him still unanswered and looming over his head like the cameras that were watching his every move even when he was asleep, for once untroubled and the endless loop of his inner turmoil coming to a halt for a few merciful hours.

*~*~*

One day was blurring into the other, and Ronon lost all tracks of time as their lives moved on without them having any control of what was happening to them.

His resolve was starting to crumble, too, his newly awakened hunger his constant companion and burning in each cell of his transformed body. The only relief he found from it was when he was fighting against Aerwyn or drinking from his blood, a brief valve for the storm of feelings raging inside him.

Aerwyn never went easy on him, and he was still stronger and faster than Ronon, despite the changes of his Wraith-DNA the clone had inflicted on him. Ronon was stronger and faster than ever before now, too, but he hardly ever managed to defeat Michael's other prisoner, no matter how hard he tried or how furious he was.

_'You know that I'm the only one who can help you to escape from here. You hate me, but you're afraid of what will happen when you start to really fight against me. Plus, you are afraid of what Kenmore will do when you defeat me. Stop being afraid, and finally start to really fight against me, runner!'_

Aerwyn's voice in his head was calm and without any mockery as he stared at him with glittering eyes and bared teeth, both of them standing in the middle of the arena with naked torsos, and Ronon let out a furious roar. Their feet were naked as well now, as Michael's clone had decided that he didn't want them to wear more than just tight leather pants when they were fighting against each other, and the stench of male pheromones of primal lust and arousal never really faded again as the copy of Michael Kenmore let them fight two times each day.

 _'I'm not afraid of you, Wraith!'_ Ronon now snarled back through their bond, fragile and thin like always when Michael was around and watching them, the clone's presence an unwelcome and hated pressure in the back of his mind. They'd been fighting for almost half an hour, slowly circling each other and trying to kick their legs out from under the other one, and Aerwyn grinned maliciously at him.

_'Then prove it to me and fight, runner.'_

Ronon roared again and jumped forward with wielding fists. His body was rotating around its axis so fast that human eyes wouldn't have been able to follow his motions any longer, but Aerwyn was still much more Wraith than human, and he hadn't lost any of his own skills and superior senses and jumped to the side as fast as Ronon was attacking him. He threw his stretched leg into the air and pushed his foot against Ronon's chest like he'd done it countless times beforehand to make him fall down so he could win the upper hand like it had always happened so far since they had been forced to fight against one another for the very first time.

The tall Satedan had always stumbled and lost his balance all those times before, driven by the momentum and force of the Wraith's kick. But not this time. Aerwyn had challenged him to finally start fighting in earnest, and Ronon grabbed the Wraith's foot by his ankle and snapped it around with a sickening cracking noise.

The Wraith screamed when his bones broke, and he fell down onto the slightly yielding violet floor, pulling Ronon with him because he was clinging to his upper arm, his still long and dark nails cutting deep scratches into his former tanned and now pale grayish skin. His blood poured out of the deep and long cuts, and his opponent hissed and tore at his arm to press his lips onto the wounds and suck at his blood. Razor-sharp teeth drew more of the dark-purple blood where they sank into Ronon's arm as they rolled over the floor in a heap of entangled limbs and bodies.

Ronon could feel the sharp agonizing pain of Aerwyn's broken ankle flow through their bond, and it made him gasp out and feel physically ill, but he couldn't pull away from the link, and to his shock and horror he also didn't want to withdraw from it, his urge to comfort his Hive brother through their special mental bond stronger than his disgust and hate.

 _'Keep fighting, warrior!!'_ He'd gone completely still, but Aerwyn's mind-voice made him move again quickly and before Michael could realize that his two prisoners had formed a bond of their own. The clone's excitement and triumph surged through the other mental link Ronon couldn't cut on his own, and it was clear that Kenmore was more than pleased that his new student and future servant had won the upper hand and brought the former Wraith brother of his own creator down at last.

The Wraith-hybrid clone glided closer to where they were rolling around on the floor of the arena, and the pressure on Ronon's brain became stronger when the second Michael Kenmore stopped beside them to look down at the two fighters.

“Stop that, _Wraith!_ You're not allowed to feed without my explicit permission!”

Ronon had instinctively pressed himself closer against Aerwyn to give him better access to his arm even though they were still fighting and snarling at each other, but the other male's pain didn't give him the same satisfaction he'd always felt when he'd seen a Wraith lying wounded or dead on the ground before his feet. On the contrary, everything inside him screamed and ached to let his new brother feed on his blood and ease the terrible pain shooting through his leg because of the broken ankle. Aerwyn startled him when he instantly pulled away at their master's order, curling away from Ronon and in on himself with a low whining noise.

The Satedan stared back and forth between his trembling body and Kenmore, and he was too confused to protest when the clone pulled him back onto his feet and curled his long fingers around his throat to make him look at him and focus his sole attention on himself.

The clone Michael bared his teeth when he was sure of Ronon's undivided attention, his still so alien yellow eyes glowing with hunger and pure primal lust. Ronon wanted to retch at the way the Wraith-hybrid regarded him as if he was some rare exhibit, but he couldn't move, and he let his tormentor drag him closer to his body, Michael's chest heaving under his black coat with his ragged and aroused breaths.

“You're so beautiful, Ronon. Just look at yourself. Smeared with blood and snarling, you're still such a wild and untamed creature, so beautiful and all mine. It'll be my pleasure to have you bow to my every wish when I'm done with you.” He made another step forward, and the heat of his arousal brushed over Ronon's damp skin, pulling a shiver from him. It was a shiver of both disgust and arousal, and Ronon felt utterly horrified about himself and his reaction to the creature that took so much pleasure in torturing not only him, but also one of his former brethren like that.

The tall Satedan could feel the evidence of Michael's desire for him brushing against his own thigh when the clone took another step in his direction, digging his nails into Ronon's scalp to make him bend his head forward.

“You did well, Ronon Dex. You really pleased me, and your performance shall be rewarded. Take my blood to sate your hunger, my brave warrior, I long to feel your teeth sinking into my throat.”

Ronon stared at the creature that looked exactly like the Michael Kenmore he'd once known and whom he hated almost more than any other Wraith he'd ever met – and which was yet so different from the original in so many ways. He stared at him, and his teeth ached with the overwhelming longing to do what the Wraith-hybrid had told him to do, while each and every fiber of his being, the human part of him that faded more and more with each day that passed, screamed that this was so terribly wrong.

_'Do it, warrior, take your rightful price!'_

It took the former runner a moment to realize that not Michael had spoken to him in his mind, but Aerwyn. The mutated Wraith was still lying on the floor, clutching his foot and whimpering miserably, but his mind-voice was fierce and triumphant, and it urged him to obey Kenmore's wish and drink his blood like he'd drunk Aerwyn's claret so many times beforehand.

_'What are you waiting for? Don't let him get suspicious! Drink his blood! He'll be distracted this way, and I can bring his guards under control. Do it!!'_

Ronon wasn't sure that he understood fully what was going on and what Aerwyn wanted to do – as they hadn't made any concrete plans for their imminent escape, but this opportunity might actually be a good one, and he finally stopped fighting against his urgent need and almost jumped forward as he grabbed the hems of Michael's coat and bent his head down to go for the clone's throat.

The Wraith-hybrid chuckled, a hoarse and aroused sound that sent chills down on Ronon's spine and sobered him up, but the artificial devotion and obedience Kenmore had implanted in him together with the alterations he'd done to his physique didn't allow him to resist the clone's invitation, and he sank his teeth into the pale skin that smelled of musk and sweat and tore at the cool flesh of his tormentor to rip it open and feast on his viscid dark blood.

Liquid fire was filling the Satedan's mouth, burning on his tongue and making his mind spin with the need for more, more and more, just more. Michael tasted so different from what Ronon knew when he'd fed on Aerwyn, sharp and almost bitter, but his body was brimming with life and ecstasy as he drank, and he bit down hard and sank his teeth deeper and deeper into the clone's neck.

Kenmore hissed and roared out loud, and he threw his head back and laughed, a terrible sound that echoed between the violet walls which surrounded the underground arena. Their bodies were pressed together in a tight embrace, and the lust the clone felt swept through the forced connection with Ronon's mind like a huge tsunami. Ronon sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed again, and he feared that he would burst with too much energy in the very next second. He was vaguely aware that he was in danger to lose himself and the last shreds of his sanity, but he wanted more, needed more, and he couldn't stop himself from craving more and more.

_'I am your master, your savior, Ronon, and your sole purpose of living is to serve me and worship the ground I as your master am walking upon. I am your master, your lord, and my blood is your reward for being my faithful servant and warrior, Ronon Dex!'_

Michael's voice was everywhere inside his head, the whispered words a terrifying singsong Ronon couldn't escape from. They were filling his brain and his soul, pulling him down into the darkness of the clone's hateful thoughts and bringing him under his spell more and more. From this day on, Ronon Dex, the Satedan and former runner who'd hated all Wraith with his entire being, would cease to exist, and Ronon the Wraith warrior and faithful servant of Michael Kenmore would take over and erase any single memory of his former self.

Ronon's vision clouded with a beginning madness, but right when he was on the brink of falling into the abyss of insanity, someone pulled him back harshly with a snarl, and a shadow jumped through the air and pushed his master away from him and down to the ground.

“NO!!!!!!”

Aerwyn's scream rolled through the arena like thunder, and Ronon watched dazedly and like frozen in place and slow motion how the mutated Wraith slammed his feeding hand into Michael's chest under the black shirt and started to feed on the copy of his former Wraith brother.

“Run, Ronon, RUN!” Aerwyn shouted without looking at him, but Ronon still couldn't move, and the pain of Aerwyn's broken ankle mingled together with Michael's agony of having his life ripped out of him with vigorous force and made him gasp out in shock and agony himself.

“RONON, RUN!!” the Wraith Ronon had come so close to over the last days and weeks repeated, and then everything went really fast and chaos broke out around everywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind feedback is love. <33


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